


There's a First Time for Everything

by radovanryn



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Married Couple, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: Lea and Isa might be married, but that shouldn’t mean they can’t still make up for lost time. Three scenes, three anniversaries. [post-KH3 ReMind, domestic LeaIsa fluff]
Relationships: Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	There's a First Time for Everything

**i. first date**

The air is thick with the scent of seawater and sugary concoctions and the excited screaming of children. It’s almost too much for Isa, who had no clue Twilight Town had a boardwalk until this morning, when Lea excitedly dragged him out of bed with no explanation beyond, _trust me Isa, you’d love it._

However, the cacophony of flashing lights and odorous amusement is not _exactly_ Isa’s idea of a good time, a complaint he is all-too-happy to pass along to his husband, who is unaffected by Isa’s grousing. “I said you _would_ love it, not that you _will_ ,” Lea replies.

Isa hums noncommittally as he thumbs the admissions ticket tucked away in his pocket. “Semantics.”

“It’s not.” Lea drags Isa off the main thoroughfare and into a small nook in-between a confectioner and a carnival game. “Remember the Harvest Festival? How we’d spend nearly all the munny we saved trying to win some sorta stuffed animal or—”

“Or flimsy plastic frisbees?” Isa interrupts. “I do, however, recall that it was _you_ who begged me for all _my_ munny.”

“Semantics,” Lea teases, which earns him a bemused look from his husband. “Point is, now that we’re married I realized that there’s so much we didn’t get the chance to do together, y’know,” Lea pauses, then quieter, adds, “before.”

_Before._ The word is laden with regret. To Isa, his life _before_ Xehanort feels like a dream, almost mythical. He cannot recognize himself in the young man he once was; too much has changed. Still, for Lea to raise the topic here—of all places—is not by happenstance, so Isa swallows down the lump in his throat, silent as Lea continues.

“I dunno if you remember, but it was almost harvest when—” Lea’s voice tapers off. Isa reaches for his husband’s hand and gently squeezes it. Lea smiles, and continues, “Anyway. I’d been plannin’ to ask you to come with me.”

“Lea, we always went to the Harvest Festival together.”

“I know! But _that time_ I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with me as, uhm…” Lea stutters, embarrassingly rubbing the back of his head. He doesn’t meet Isa’s eyes when he clarifies, “As a date.”

“Oh.” Dumbfounded, Isa searches his own half-faded memories and realizes— “I don’t think we’ve ever been on a date, have we?”

Confidence restored, Lea twists his wrist in Isa’s grip, tangling their fingers together. “I’m kinda late, but you know what they say? Better late, than never.” He smirks. “D’you know what today is?”

Understanding dawns on Isa as he fits the jumbled pieces of Lea’s logic together. “ _Mabon_ ,” he says. “The first day of the Harvest Festival.”

“Woulda been our first date.” Unlike before, Lea’s tone is more wistful than sad. “Happy Anniversary, Isa.”

It’s as Lea said: _better late, than never._ Still, it would be remiss of him not to tease Lea, if only a little. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would have agreed to let you take me out.”

Lea’s eyes glitter with mirth, and it sets Isa’s heart ablaze to see his husband so _alive_ — so unlike Axel. “Isa, _please_ ,” he scoffs. “I’m the best prize you’ve ever won, doncha think?”

The bright carnival lights glint off their wedding rings as Lea brings their clasped hands to his lips and softly kisses Isa’s knuckles. Isa blushes at his partner’s uncharacteristic gentility, and wonders if Lea isn’t right, as though Isa’s collected dozens… hundreds… _thousands_ of “winner” sticks and traded them all in for Lea.

However, Isa isn’t able to dwell on it for much longer. Lea spots a nearby dart-throwing game and unceremoniously drags Isa to it by their still-joined hands, all the while insisting that he’ll win Isa a prize to remember their “date-iversary”—as Lea calls it. And, like every Harvest Festival he’d spent with Lea, Isa lets his husband spend all their munny to win him a giant stuffed chocobo.

(That night, while Lea is sleeping, Isa starts planning.)

**ii. first kiss**

“ _Psst_ , Isa.” He frowns, but doesn’t open his eyes. A moment passes, and then, “Isa-a- _ah_ ,” Lea sing-songs, and it’s his obnoxious off-tune pitch that compels Isa to open his eyes, if only so that he can properly glare at his lover.

“Lea,” he grumbles, reaching for his gummiphone and squinting at its digital clock. “It’s past midnight. What do you want?”

“My husband to get outta bed, for starters.” It’s then that Isa notices the crumbled ball of blankets tucked underneath Lea’s arm.

“What are you planning?” he asks suspiciously, which has Lea huffing in exasperation.

“Jeez, what’s with the third degree? Trust me, would ya?”

Isa follows Lea, too tired to question it. It’s not until the cool night air brushes against his cheeks that Isa fully wakes, only to be greeted by a breathtaking sight.

“Talk about a view, am I right?” Lea chuckles at Isa, who knows his jaw has dropped open in astonishment but cannot bring himself to care. The starfield above seems endless, all twinkling lights and shimmering auroras that splash across the skies in brilliant violets and fuchsias against the inky blackness. 

Isa’s breath catches as he spots a shooting star.

“C’mere,” Lea murmurs, his soft voice breaking Isa’s trance. He’s spread the blankets out, and slowly guides Isa down to lay beside him on the soft ground. “Do you remember back when we were kids, and I snuck us into the castle observatory to look at the stars?”

Isa’s cheeks flush, more from the memory than the chill. Lea goes on, “I don’t know if I _ever_ heard you talk so much, Isa. You must’ve gone on and on for _hours_ about all the different constellations and the stories that go with ‘em. There was Orion and the Pleiades, and then Perseus and, oh, what was her name—”

“Andromeda,” Isa interrupts, his voice barely more than a whisper. He scans the night sky, all-but certain he won’t find the supine figure until— “There,” he says, taking Lea’s hand so that he can point the constellation out for his husband.

“One sky, one destiny,” Lea mutters. “Somethin’ Kairi used to say to me.” He scoots closer to Isa, tangling their legs. “Tell me again?”

“What, didn’t get it memorized?” Isa teases, chuckling as Lea playfully nips his earlobe in retaliation. “Andromeda was so beautiful that it upset the sea nymphs, who brought their grievance to Poseidon, lord of water. Poseidon threatened to destroy the kingdom unless Andromeda was sacrificed to one of his many children, a terrible sea monster.

“However,” Isa goes on, “a man named Perseus saw Andromeda as he sailed past, and was immediately smitten. He promised to rescue her if only she would marry him, and when she agreed he slayed the beast that meant to devour her.” Isa draws his and Lea’s clasped hands down, yet his gaze remains fixed on the far-off celestial bodies. “And for keeping her promise, the goddess blessed Andromeda with her very own star.”

By the time Isa’s finished, Lea’s idly playing with a lock of Isa’s hair. “I think I’d be Andromeda.” His tone is wistful as he adds, “Seems like a lot less work when ya think about it, just sittin’ on a rock and looking pretty.”

Isa hums in agreement even as he thinks Lea would make a better Perseus. Who else, beside his husband, would risk it all for his friends? His lover? Who, other than Lea, would do the unthinkable—to rise from the ashes and forge a keyblade in the name of love?

The pair sit together in comfortable silence for several minutes until Lea, who loathes the quiet, shifts against him and whispers, “Hey, Isa?”

“Yes, Lea?”

“That night at the observatory. D’you remember what happened next?” He does, _oh how he does._ Isa remembers how his voice trailed off as he stared longingly at the night sky, until a murmured voice—as it has tonight—stirred him from his reverie. Then, as now, Isa turns to Lea, whose grin could rival the sun for its radiance. “I asked Ansem, and if his calculations are correct—”

“Another anniversary?” Isa interrupts, a smile quirking his own lips. Since the boardwalk, Lea has kept up the habit of reminding Isa of little details of their old life, reimagined for their new reality together. He tells Isa it’s to make up for lost time, and Isa appreciates the gesture—in his own quiet way.

“May I suggest a minor revision?” Isa asks. Lea tilts his head, but doesn’t lose the grin.

“What d’you m— _mmh_!”

(His lips are still tingling hours later, as he traces Andromeda’s constellation on a fresh sheet of paper.)

**iii. first anniversary**

Isa tiptoes into the bedroom, careful not to disturb the formalwear Lea set out for them last night. Despite Lea’s penchant for throwing items together without care for how the colors and patterns clash, he’s picked out a pair of complementary outfits for them tonight—a trim charcoal suit for Isa, a white button-down and tailored pants for himself. The reservation was made months ago for the best table at one of Isa’s favorite restaurants. A candlelit dinner is perhaps the most mundane thing they’ve done together, and Isa genuinely cannot wait.

Careful not to spill any of the coffee onto his surprise gift, Isa sets the serving tray he’s brought with him down on their nightstand. Gently, Isa shakes Lea awake. Most mornings, it’s Lea prematurely rousing Isa, usually to drag him off on last-minute errands or mission to far-off worlds, so it’s not surprising that Lea looks confused as he wakes, blearily cracking one eye open as he struggles to focus on his lover.

“Mmn, Isa?” Lea mutters, followed by a jaw-cracking yawn. He stretches his lanky limbs out to all corners of their bed, and as he does Isa forces himself to remain patient. His stomach is a mess of nerves, but also giddy anticipation. Isa wonders if this is how Lea feels, too, whenever his partner wakes him with some romantic gesture in mind.

The curious look remains on Lea’s face even as he blinks the last of the sleep from his brilliant emerald eyes. Spotting the tray Isa placed on their bedside table, Lea asks, “What’s all this?”

“Breakfast.” At Lea’s blank look, Isa clarifies. “French toast with fresh berries and cream, and black coffee to cut through all the sugar.”

“Aw, tryin’ to sweeten me up, Isa?” Lea flutters his eyelashes, and despite himself Isa is— _begrudgingly_ —charmed.

“You’re obnoxious,” Isa retorts, cheeks flushing at the sound of Lea’s delighted laughter. Sighing, Isa hands Lea his cup of coffee, who accepts it with a soft smile. Isa tries not to fidget as Lea takes a generous sip, a pleased hum escaping his lips. At last, Lea focuses on the rest of the tray. His gaze lands on the plain black box Isa’s tucked into the corner, and wordlessly, he cocks a questioning eyebrow.

“See for yourself.” Isa hasn’t felt this excited and nervous since he stood at the altar exactly one year ago.

Suddenly wide awake, Lea nearly spills his coffee in his haste to get at the box—it’s only Isa’s quick reflexes that spares their sheets. “Thanks,” Lea mumbles, setting the gift in his lap to open it. Inside the box is a plain leather-bound scrapbook with a metallic green-and-blue embossing that Isa commissioned from a local craftsperson months ago. Lea gasps as he opens the cover and sees their handfasting invitation on the first page, surrounded by photographs, dried flowers from their ceremony, and even the receipt from the ringsmith Isa had visited. In the lowermost corner, Isa’s written the date of their wedding by hand, partly muddled by small water droplets.

It isn’t until a tear drips from Lea’s chin onto the parchment that the redhead realizes what those tiny imperfections were from.

“It’s a memory book,” Isa needlessly explains. It has taken him the better part of a year to put it all together, ever since he was first inspired down at the boardwalk. Lea’s mouth has dropped open, but all that comes out is a choked sound. For the first time in his life Lea—ever the wise-cracking smartmouth—is at a loss for words. An unfathomable emotion, somehow deeper than love, swells in Isa’s heart at the disbelieving yet joyful expression on his husband’s face. No matter the effort, it was—

_they are_

—worth each and every second.

Breakfast utterly forgotten, Lea spends long moments on each and every single page. Most are filled with happy memories of their life together. Lea recognizes the carnival tickets from their “first” date and the starry constellations Isa traced out across two entire sheets. There’s dozens and dozens of pictures, too, from both their gummiphones and, Isa shyly explains, Roxas and Xion’s as well. For the memories not captured in photographs, Isa asked Naminé for sketches based on his recollection, all of which are annotated with his neat penmanship. Isa included everyone whose hearts were connected to theirs, even those whose fates yet hung in the balance. One page is empty, save for a small ‘X’ painstakingly etched in the center. Through his tears, Lea finds Isa’s hand and squeezes tightly.

They haven’t forgotten her.

Not all the memories are kind, of course. Isa watches Lea as he traces trembling fingers over the letters V-I-I-I, the number that defined his existence for nearly half his life. The number Saïx took when he returned to nonexistence for a second time, prepared to give his everything for the sake of redemption. Within those pages, Isa tucked away scraps of old mission reports and secret ciphers meant only for his and Axel’s eyes. Lea shudders as he quickly turns the page; some wounds have yet to fully heal.

“We have made more mistakes than I care to remember,” Isa says, interrupting Lea’s sudden melancholy with another gentle squeeze to their still-joined hands. “I regret many things, but I have never, not for a single second, regretted us. Our bond.” With his free hand, Isa flips to the final page, where Naminé has recreated one of Isa’s most precious memories—a moment from one nondescript night when they were fourteen and Isa knew he was in love with his best friend.

“Marrying you was the best decision I have ever made.”

Lea makes a strangled noise, then surges forward, kissing Isa as if his life depends on it. His husband’s salty tears sweeten the kiss, expressing all the words Lea cannot voice. Isa cradles Lea’s face in his hands, thumbs caressing heated cheeks. Isa wills himself to remember this moment, to cherish it as much as all the other wonderful memories they’ve made together.

After parting, Lea speaks. His voice is hoarse, gone rough from weeping. “I _love_ you.”

“And I, you.”

They hold one another for a moment longer, wordless promises of love, trust, and devotion echoing the same vows they made to each other exactly one year ago. After they’ve parted, Isa gives Lea his coffee back, the cooling liquid brought back to near-boiling between Lea’s glowing hands. Lea shuffles to one side of the bed to make room for Isa, who settles down with his own magically reheated mug.

With a chuckle, Lea blithely remarks, “How’s a fancy dinner supposed to top this, huh? Always gotta one up me, don’t ya?”

“It hardly takes any effort at all.” A lie, of course, as Isa’s already begun making plans for next year’s anniversary gift. Cotton, the old superstitions suggest. He’ll need to meet with the good fairies, at the very least.

Beside him, Lea scoffs, but nevertheless draws Isa closer. In a low, quiet voice, he says, “You deserve the world. The sun and the stars. The _moon_ — all of it, Isa.” Lea takes Isa’s chin and brings their lips together for another gentle kiss. “All of it, I want to give to you.”

“You already have,” Isa whispers, his hand coming to rest on Lea’s chest where he can feel his lover’s heart beating.

“You already did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I adore these saps so damn much. Also, in case you didn’t know, in the KH III: ReMind DLC it’s revealed that in the Real Organization XIII, Saix is XIII. Either Xehanort made the most passive-aggressive move ever, or Saix was very unsubtly letting everyone know how much he was about to betray them. Speculate away, dearies.
> 
> As always, please let me know in the comments what you thought of this story. Kudos are also deeply appreciated! You can also find me on twitter [@radovanryn](https://twitter.com/radovanryn), where I post KH ficlets, drabbles, and previews that aren’t available on AO3. 
> 
> Massive thanks to Michi ([@RequiemPluie](https://twitter.com/RequiemPluie) on twitter) for their support and encouragement on this piece. Michi is an incredibly gifted artist, so if you haven’t already go and check out their work!
> 
> Be well and thank you for reading! <3


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